


speak of the spring

by witching



Series: in process of the seasons [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Come Eating, Comeplay, Enthusiastic Consent, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Praise Kink, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), not a lot just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 03:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19966927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witching/pseuds/witching
Summary: speak of the spring and foison of the year;the one doth shadow of your beauty show,the other as your bounty doth appear,and you in every blessèd shape we know.// william shakespeare, sonnet 53crowley comes home.





	speak of the spring

**Author's Note:**

> this is a sequel to _summer and his pleasures_ because several people requested it. it can be read separately, but i do suggest reading the first part, if only because i want people to read my fic. anyway, enjoy!

Crowley had made the smart decision to leave the Bentley in long-term parking at the airport, positively unwilling to trust anyone but himself with the task of getting him home. He found himself especially thankful for that fact now, as he maintained a steady 110 miles per hour en route to Aziraphale's. No cab driver would have been able to understand his urgency, much less indulge it.

It wasn't until he pulled up in front of the bookshop and parked the car that Crowley began to feel a bit nervous. The last time he had been here, the last time he had seen Aziraphale face to face, the can of worms that was their mutual attraction had been firmly sealed; it had been nearly a month since then, and everything would be different now, all because of a few phone conversations. Crowley heard Aziraphale's voice echoing in the back of his mind as he walked up to the bookshop:  _ What if changing things means ruining things? _

It was some small relief, at least, when Aziraphale met him at the door and greeted him the same as usual, taking his jacket and pressing a cup of tea into his hands before he could even say hello. Crowley took a sip to be courteous and then set the cup down on a nearby table, turning over all the possibilities in his mind while the angel watched his movements with intense heat behind his eyes. 

“The flight wasn’t too bad, I hope?” Aziraphale said lightly, casually, as if his thoughts weren’t entirely occupied with the overwhelming urge to undress the demon. He contented himself with reaching out to touch Crowley, smoothing a hand down his bicep.

Crowley shrugged, concentrating most of the gesture in his head so as not to disturb the angel's hand. He leaned into the touch. "Was fine," he muttered vaguely. "Slept a bit."

Nodding, Aziraphale squeezed the demon's arm and gave him a soft smile. "Still tired? I have a bed set up for you."

"Not too tired," Crowley replied. "Sss'still early, yeah?" He glanced at the clock, which told him it was half past ten. "Could do with… some winding down, first."

Aziraphale's eyes widened just the tiniest bit, and he moved his hand down Crowley's arm to circle his wrist with his fingers. "Of course, my dear. Why don't I show you the bedroom, and maybe we can have a drink?"

Crowley smiled and nodded at that and let Aziraphale lead him up the stairs. The bedroom was cozy, not like Crowley's at home, but not quite what he imagined Aziraphale would hypothetically have, either. It looked exactly like he would have expected from Aziraphale trying to design a room that he would like to sleep in.

The bed was big, that was the first thing Crowley noticed. It was a  _ very _ large bed, fitted with stark white sheets and a black down comforter. There was no other furniture; this was clearly something Aziraphale had set up for Crowley for exactly one night of use. The demon ran a hand along the soft cotton, pressing lightly to test the give of the mattress – it was perfect, somehow, and he was baffled that Aziraphale had known just how he liked it.

"It's very nice," he remarked after a too-long silence, turning to face the angel. 

Aziraphale had been watching him intently, and he started slightly when Crowley's eyes met his, taking only a moment to relax into a soft smile. "I'm glad you think so."

Crowley hummed pleasantly, returning the angel's smile with ease. "I might…" He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet like a nervous schoolboy trying to ask his crush to prom. "I might like to wind down  _ in _ the bed," he proposed, aiming for calm and landing somewhere near terrified instead. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. And – well, it's just that it's such a big bed, and it would be a shame to keep it all to myself." Crowley pouted out his lower lip just a tad. "And I do get cold," he added pitifully.

Aziraphale took a slow but certain step closer to the demon, a wry smile playing across his lips. "You could ask me to come to bed with you, my dear," he murmured warmly. "You needn't play coy."

Flushing with chagrin, Crowley tried to look away, but the angel caught him halfway through the movement, grabbed his chin with one gentle hand and directed him to keep his face up. Aziraphale spent rather a long time simply gazing at the demon, his eyes positively brimming with adoration, his lips parted in a subtle expression of wonderment. 

After what felt to Crowley like forever and a year, Aziraphale smiled. "My  _ goodness, _ but you're gorgeous," he whispered, moving his hand up to press his warm palm against Crowley's cheek. "It is entirely unfair how pretty you are."

Crowley flushed deeper, biting his lip to suppress the goofy grin that wanted to come out. "Mm… you don't have to say that," he mumbled, letting his eyes drift shut to ease the feeling of being watched, scrutinized,  _ appraised. _

"I really do," Aziraphale assured him. He grazed his thumb over the demon's cheekbone, watched the pink get pinker, let out an awed, indulgent breath. 

"M'not even wearing my makeup," Crowley protested weakly, though they both knew there was no real insecurity behind the statement. He was playing a sort of a game – not a particularly fun game, but one that he thought was compulsory. It had long been a matter of habit for Crowley to deny and deflect whenever Aziraphale said something nice to him, and this additional layer to their relationship couldn’t quash that instinct. 

Aziraphale saw straight through it, of course, and he jutted out his lower lip just a bit, just enough that he could plausibly deny having done it on purpose, if Crowley chanced to see it. "You always look lovely," he murmured, “but I actually happen to be quite partial to the way you look in this state.”

“In what state?” Crowley opened his eyes again, looking quizzically at the angel, and let out a nearly imperceptible little whine, leaning forward to follow the warmth when Aziraphale dropped the hand from his face. 

The hand, though, had simply moved downward to toy with the collar of Crowley’s shirt idly. Aziraphale tilted his head, his gaze sliding slow and steady over every inch of the demon’s face before he spoke. “Why do you always take off your makeup by hand? You never miracle it away, you always use one of those cloths, and I’ve always been curious.”

Crowley thought about it for a moment, feeling only a distant twinge of irritation that the angel hadn’t answered his question. “I don’t know. It feels nice.” He processed the idea for a few more seconds, turning it over in his head, and then perked up slightly. “It’s cathartic, actually,” he added, his tone low and pensive. “It’s good, like a ritual way of washing off the day.”

Aziraphale made a thoughtful little hum and reached up to swipe his thumb along Crowley’s lower lip, holding his chin gently. “It does beautiful things to your mouth, you know.”

Struck by the earnest heat in his voice, Crowley could do nothing but stare, his pupils blown wide, his skin burning under the angel’s touch. Then Aziraphale smiled at him, and Crowley huffed out a soft breath, completely disarmed.

“I always appreciate that,” the angel continued, dropping his hand again, speaking as casually as if he were commenting upon a favorite wine. “When we come back here after a long day and you take off your makeup. You – you scrub at your lipstick rather aggressively, is the thing, and it always leaves your lips a bit red, a bit swollen. It’s deliciously appealing.”

Crowley froze, entirely unable to reply to the statement. Fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about it for too long, as the angel saved him the trouble of a response by grabbing him and pulling him down into a kiss. Though his grip was tight and unforgiving on the fabric of Crowley’s shirt, Aziraphale’s lips were much gentler, tender and fluid and sweet; Crowley melted into the kiss, inhaled sharply through his nose and reveled in the scent of the angel, rich and earthy and familiar.

All too soon, Aziraphale broke the kiss, pulling away by inches and laying his palm flat against Crowley’s chest, right over his heart. He let his tongue flit out to wet his lips, looked up at the demon’s face, furrowed his brow. “Was that okay?”

Crowley blinked several times, then nodded blankly. “I’d like to do it again,” he stated, “if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” murmured the angel, and he leaned in to press another quick kiss to Crowley’s lips. Settling his hands on the demon’s waist, he pushed ever so gently, guiding Crowley to have a seat on the edge of the bed, and took a small step back to look at him. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” Crowley breathed fervently, finding the angel’s hand and holding it delicately in his own. Looking up to meet Aziraphale’s gaze, the demon felt his head begin to swim. He tightened his grip on the angel’s hand, pulled it to himself, placed it on the side of his neck and felt the warmth of the touch, felt Aziraphale’s fingers twitch against his skin. “You’re overthinking it again,” Crowley added, his voice like velvet, as he watched the gears turn in Aziraphale’s mind. 

“I’m sorry,” the angel groaned, snapping back into the moment. “It’s just. Well, it’s a bit overwhelming, is all. To have you here and to be able to – after all this time.” He took a deep breath and blew it out in a huff. “I don’t know what to do first.”

“If I may make a suggestion,” Crowley said, “I think, personally, I’d like it if you and I both were wearing less clothing.”

Aziraphale gave a single resolute nod of his head, his hands moving to the buttons of his cardigan. “That can be arranged,” he muttered half to himself, then returned his attention to Crowley, who was beginning the work of unlacing his boots. “But I – do you think that, erm.” He paused, swallowing nervously, as the demon halted his movements and looked back up at him. “I would very much like to undress you myself, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh.” Crowley straightened up, leaving his boots half-tied, and folded his hands in his lap. “Yes, that’s fine. Gives me the chance to enjoy this show,” he added, waving a hand to indicate the angel’s open sweater. Smiling at the slight flush that rose to the angel’s cheeks, Crowley crossed his legs, leaned back on his elbows, and waited expectantly.

With shaking hands, Aziraphale slipped his cardigan off and discarded it on the floor, toeing off his shoes at the same time. He began to loosen his tie, trying his best not to stare right back at Crowley watching him. Aziraphale wasn’t self-conscious, by any means, but he felt the full force of the demon’s eyes, trained unblinking on his every move, and that along with the silence made for a rather tense environment.

When his tie was gone and his shirt halfway unbuttoned, Aziraphale reached his limit, unable to resist any longer. He advance with slow, languorous movements to lean over Crowley, his hands planted firmly on the bed on either side of the demon’s waist. “This is taking too long,” he muttered hotly in Crowley’s ear.

Nodding frantically, Crowley gripped the angel’s hips and pulled him closer until he lurched forward, losing his footing and nearly falling on top of the demon in an altogether undignified manner. Crowley laughed as he sat up straight and helped steady the angel, but the noise was quickly cut short as Aziraphale regained his balance and dove forward to kiss him. 

It was deeper this time, more heated than the first few kisses. Cautiously, tentatively, Aziraphale licked at Crowley’s lips, and the demon parted them in response, in invitation, letting out a small noise of satisfaction when he felt the angel’s tongue slide against his. Aziraphale responded with a similar noise, cradled the demon’s face in his hands, and tugged at Crowley’s lip with his teeth as he pulled away from the kiss.

_ “Angel,” _ Crowley whined, not having the wherewithal to be embarrassed at how pathetic it was. Aziraphale just  _ grinned, _ looking so smug that Crowley almost considered not fucking him after all, if only to avoid puffing up his ego. That thought passed quickly, however, as Crowley was reminded just how badly he wanted this. “Angel, will you touch me? Touch me like you said you would?”

“I’d be delighted,” the angel replied, dropping to his knees and looking up at Crowley, who was looking down at him. He ran his hands down the length of Crowley’s legs, from his thighs to his ankles, before sitting back in order to remove the demon’s boots. Through untying them, slipping them off of Crowley’s feet, setting them gently and neatly on the floor by the bed, Aziraphale never looked away from Crowley’s face.

Crowley was wearing silk stockings, of course, because he would never settle for anything less, and they were soft and smooth as Aziraphale slid his hands back up Crowley’s legs. Instead of returning to establish his hold on the outside of Crowley’s thighs, he slipped his hands under the demon’s skirt, following the stockings up, up, up, until he felt the fabric give way to skin and heard Crowley’s tiny gasp at the contact. 

Freezing up instantly, Aziraphale looked up at Crowley with his eyes wide and his brow furrowed, near-frantic in his concern when he spoke. “Is this okay? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay.” Crowley tried hard to keep the edge of impatience from creeping into his tone; he reminded himself that he really was thankful that Aziraphale was so thoughtful and caring, no matter how much he wished the angel would get on with it already. “I’m more than okay. You’re doing very well, angel, really.”

Aziraphale nodded, tightening his hands on Crowley’s thighs, resuming his ministrations. He moved further up, trailing his fingers gracefully against Crowley’s skin, finding the soft lace of the demon’s panties and continuing up to the waistband, and began to tug them down. Crowley shifted his hips up to help the angel in his efforts, watched with rapt attention as he slid the panties down the demon’s legs and threw them backward over his shoulder.

“I do believe I’ve got promises to keep,” the angel murmured sweetly, smiling when Crowley sighed in relief. The demon’s cock was hard, tenting his skirt, and Aziraphale couldn’t wait any longer; he braced one hand on Crowley’s thigh, wrapping the other carefully around the base of his cock, and dipped his head underneath the skirt. 

Aziraphale had never exactly done this before, not with another person, but he had a cock of his own, usually, and he knew what he would like. Crowley wouldn’t necessarily like the same things, of course, but the angel also trusted that they knew each other well enough that if Crowley wasn’t enjoying it, he would notice. All of these thoughts ran through Aziraphale’s head rather quickly while he stalled at the sight of the demon’s erection. It wasn’t – well, it wasn’t outrageously big or small or anything else, it was a perfectly normal cock, and Aziraphale hesitated only to entertain his own uncertainty for a moment.

The moment passed; Aziraphale leaned forward and licked a path up the underside of Crowley’s cock, breathing out an awed little laugh at the way the demon tensed up. It was good, he thought, and he would rather like to make it happen as many times as possible. He moved up a bit, pressed a soft kiss to the head of Crowley’s cock, swirled his tongue around the tip of it and then sucked, simply basking in the delicious noises that escaped the demon.

Aziraphale almost didn’t register that he was making noises, too, wanton little moans at the taste of Crowley’s skin, the feeling of his cock resting on the angel’s tongue. He sucked and licked and kissed and  _ worshiped  _ Crowley’s cock, greedy, hungry for it, the demon all the while keeping his hands flat on the bed and restraining involuntary jerks of his hips. 

This continued for a handful of minutes, until Crowley let out a particularly desperate whine, followed by, "Aziraphale – angel – you're gonna make me come."

The angel pulled off of Crowley's cock, placing one last kiss on the tip of it, and emerged from underneath his skirt. He looked up at Crowley, his lips parted and glistening, his hair mussed, his eyes wide. "You taste good," he said simply.

"Erm. Thanks," Crowley mumbled, casting a glance at the floor as his cheeks reddened. "Can you come here?" 

Aziraphale obliged, rising from the floor to take a seat next to Crowley on the bed. Almost instinctively, Crowley reached for his hand, folding his long fingers around the angel's plump palm and resting it in his own lap, and turned to look at him.

"I really, really missed you," Crowley whispered earnestly. 

"I really, really missed you, too," Aziraphale whispered back, his hands deftly finding their way to the demon's waist to untuck his shirt. 

Crowley wriggled impossibly closer to him, the entire side of his body pressed flush against the angel, who grasped the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head with Crowley's cooperation. Skin exposed to the air, Crowley shivered just the slightest bit, and Aziraphale responded by wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He squeezed Crowley, a gesture of reassurance more than anything else, and kissed him once, twice, thrice on the lips before pulling away. 

"Do you want –" the angel cut himself off, embarrassed to ask for anything.

Crowley thought about what Aziraphale had said that night on the phone, the desires he had voiced, the ideas he had put in the demon's head:  _ I would have you with my hands, with my mouth, until you couldn’t stand it any longer. Have you wrapped around me and underneath me and make you feel so good. _ He sighed at the memory of it, turning to the angel with a renewed determination. 

"I want you to fuck me," he said shakily, delighting in the way Aziraphale's eyes went wide, his breath caught. He paused for a moment, then added in a small voice, “Please.”

Aziraphale nodded, which was all the encouragement Crowley needed to set to work on the rest of Aziraphale’s shirt buttons, pressing sloppy kisses to his cheeks and jaw as he slid the shirt off the angel’s shoulders and set it aside. He placed his hands solidly on Aziraphale’s naked chest, feeling the silken warmth of his skin, and then trailed his long fingers down to press in against the angel’s belly, his waist, his hips, feeling the give of the soft flesh and experimenting with different pressures to get a reaction from Aziraphale. Grazing his thumb ever so lightly over a spot just above the angel’s waistband, Crowley heard a sharp intake of breath and felt the muscle tense up under the layer of fat, and he couldn’t help but smile in response.

“Good?” Crowley looked up to Aziraphale’s face to ensure he wasn’t misreading any signs.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, nodding quickly. 

Crowley nodded back at him. “Good.” He patted the angel gently, right where his lower back met his bottom, prompting him to stand, and Aziraphale did so without hesitation. “Can I –?” Crowley’s hands hovered near the button of the angel’s pants, uncertain, until he heard the soft affirmation of permission, at which point he had Aziraphale’s slacks and boxers down around his ankles within seconds.

Stepping out of the last of his clothing, Aziraphale felt his skin heat up just slightly at the exposure, the vulnerability. He was saved before he could become too self-conscious, as Crowley rose to his knees on the edge of the bed and pulled him close again, wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and kissed him recklessly. Using the momentum of the kiss, Crowley moved his hands to grip the angel’s biceps and steer him into a suitable position on the bed, laying him down and leaning over him to continue tasting him as long as possible, sucking on his lip, moaning shamelessly into his mouth. 

When Crowley pulled away, panting, his pupils blown wide, Aziraphale seized the opportunity to reverse their positions, grabbing the demon’s waist and flipping him over onto his back, where he lay breathlessly gazing up at Aziraphale. The angel found himself frozen and speechless for a long moment, soaking in the fact that he had Crowley here, that this was happening, that this was real.

“Angel,” Crowley murmured, placing a hand on Aziraphale’s cheek that jolted him out of his reverie. “My angel, you’re so beautiful.”

Aziraphale smiled, the slightest quirk of his lips, and wordlessly slid down the length of the demon’s body to ruck up the skirt to his waist. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the inside of Crowley’s thigh, and Crowley responded by hooking his knee over the angel’s shoulder, his legs spread wide and waiting. Unable to turn down an invitation like that, Aziraphale slid his hand down from Crowley’s stomach, past his cock, to tease at the demon’s hole with his finger, slick and circling around the rim but not quite pressing in.

For his part, Crowley shifted his hips downward, trying to catch the angel’s finger and get him inside, whining desperately at the building sensation that was too much and not enough. Aziraphale took pity on him soon enough, looking up at his wide golden eyes. “Is this what you want?” he asked, and he wasn’t teasing, wasn’t playing innocent to drive Crowley to begging; he was  _ asking, _ making sure that Crowley was still okay, and all the tenderness in the world shone through in his face.

“Yesss, fuck, yes please,” the demon answered, tightening his leg around Aziraphale’s shoulder like a constrictor. “Please, angel, please give it to me.” He took a deep breath in order to steady himself, to quell his feverish tendency to babble, and then took on a tone which was as close to commanding as Crowley was capable of getting. “Start with two, I can take it.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, not quite surprised, slightly amused, but he didn’t make a remark. He obliged Crowley’s request without missing a beat, sliding two slicked fingers inside him slowly, carefully, feeling the way Crowley clenched around him and rocked his hips down again. The demon was muttering something incoherent, a string of expletives and gasps and moans, as Aziraphale pressed his fingers in as deep as he could, scissored them gently as he pulled them out a bit and then pushed back in, fucking Crowley on his fingers at a leisurely pace. 

He was about to ask if Crowley would be okay with him adding a third finger, but the demon beat him to it. “Don’t bother,” he said breathlessly, reaching to still the angel’s hand. “I need your cock inside me, angel, pleassse.”

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale furrowed his brow in concern. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Crowley promised sincerely, his tone growing more desperate by the word. “I like it. Like the way it feelsss. Don’t wanna be all loose and easy, wanna feel your thick cock ssstretching me open, wanna  _ feel  _ it.”

Well. Aziraphale certainly couldn’t turn down a request like that. He lined up his cock at the demon’s entrance and froze for a moment, fixing his eyes on Crowley’s face, watched every tiny movement and catalogued every sound Crowley made as he pushed into him. Aziraphale realized faintly that the demon’s leg was still slung over his shoulder, now pushed up against Crowley’s own chest at an angle that couldn’t possibly be comfortable, but just as he noticed that, Crowley bent in an inhuman manner to place his other leg in the same position. 

“Is that – does that not hurt?” 

“Only a bit,” Crowley sighed dreamily, “and in the best way.”

Aziraphale would have continued being confused about the statement, only he couldn’t possibly ignore the fact that he was buried to the hilt inside the intense tight heat of Crowley. He started with methodical, measured movements, remaining mindful of Crowley’s reactions, gradually working up speed and force until he had established a steady pace, which Crowley was rather vocally enjoying.

“You’re amazing,” the angel groaned between panting breaths. “You are, you are. Wonderful, magnificent, brilliant. So good for me, and you feel so good around my cock.”

Crowley keened, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, his fingertips digging into Aziraphale’s shoulderblades. “Fuck, angel,” he moaned, low and hoarse. “Will you – I’m –  _ please  _ touch me.”

Aziraphale slipped a hand down toward Crowley’s cock, lying hard and leaking against his stomach and on the fabric of his skirt. He wrapped his fingers loosely around the length of it, giving it a few strokes with the lightest of pressure, reveling in the stutter of the demon’s hips as he tried to buck up into the touch. When Aziraphale tightened his grip on Crowley’s cock, he couldn’t hold back a choked gasp at the way the demon’s ass clenched around him, tighter than he could ever have imagined.

Nearly past the point where he could no longer find words, Crowley managed to grind out a request in a strained, whining tone. “Can you come inside me, angel, please,” he begged shamelessly. “Please, I want you to fill me up.”

Doubling down on his movements, Aziraphale gave a few last powerful thrusts until he came with a low, husky moan, buried inside Crowley as deep as he could go. He paused for only a moment and then began moving again, fucking Crowley as he spilled inside him, the demon’s ass squeezing his cock and milking it for more as Crowley tumbled over the edge, as well. Only when the sensation shifted from intense pleasure to the pain of overstimulation did Aziraphale pull out and roll over, lying on his back next to Crowley.

After a few seconds to overcome the initial exhaustion, Aziraphale became curious, and lifted his hand to his mouth, lapping up a bit of Crowley’s come from his fingers; he made a face at the taste of it. 

Crowley laughed. “I’ve never tried that, but I’ve heard it’s not great.”

The angel presented his hand to Crowley, who shrugged and leaned forward a bit to take two of Aziraphale’s fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking them clean of his come. He looked up through his lashes at Aziraphale while he did it, and Aziraphale was mesmerized, unable to look away from the demon’s wide eyes and his swollen lips wrapped around the angel’s fingers. Pulling back with a wet sound, Crowley wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah,” he said, “not great.”

Aziraphale gave him a giddy smile and leaned in to kiss him quickly before pulling away to look into his eyes, holding Crowley’s face in his hands. “Have I told you that I love you?”

“No,” Crowley breathed, taken aback. “I don’t believe we’d broached that subject.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “We can talk about it later.”

Burrowing into the crook of the angel’s neck, wrapping an arm around his thick middle, Crowley nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured against Aziraphale’s skin, punctuating the word with a soft kiss. “I love you too, but I’ll tell you that later.”


End file.
